Five Night Observation
by lemonjelly
Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Each chapter focused on each character [COMPLETE]
1. Warrick Brown

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. Could I ever make a finale up to the standard of Grave Danger? Christ no.**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**Yes, I know at the end of _Perpetuity_ I said the next thing out from me would probably be called _Every Me and Every You _but that'll probably be pushed back now since I watched the Season Five finale last night and it was incredible – absolutely brilliant. Puts all other TV to shame. So I had to write something down that was post-Grave Danger. GCR fans keeping watching out for _Down The Aisle_ which'll probably come out along with _Wake The Hope_ which has some GCR but is mainly very WS. **

**Feedback for this would be greatly appreciated but, Jesus, how good was that finale! If this doesn't do the slightest bit of justice to how amazing it was, you have to tell me and I'll take it down right away. But either way - I'm giving it my best shot. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Five Night Observation. Chapter One. Warrick Brown**

- o -**  
**

Nick Stokes wakes in the box.

Every night this week, without fail, he will wake in that box. With the oppressive six sides pressing in on him. And the blindingly bright light clicking off the comforting whirring of the fan by his head. And the crawling, crawling, crawling of the ants.

"It's alright, man – another dream."

On the first night, it's Warrick who sits at his bedside. He offers Nick a smile as the haunted man struggles to wake up and leave it behind him. It's just a dream. Nick sits up and smiles – of course it is.

"I was, uh – I was back in the box." he confesses, shuddering slightly. His throat his dry and his voice is croaky. Warrick nods sympathetically.

"Psych said it'd take a while to get over it," Warrick says. "Which costs, what – 50 bucks for a consult? And they tell you something we all already knew." Nick grins.

"Hey, can you get me a glass of water or something, 'Rick?" Nick croaks.

"Sure, anything you like," Warrick jumps up. "I can get you a soda, if you like. Or a beer – you want a beer?"

Nick smiles slightly at his friend, so consumed by guilt that he'd get him anything he asked for. "Nah, just water would be good, 'Rick, thanks."

"Okay, sure," Warrick says distantly, pouring a glass of water from the jug on the hospital nightstand. "I guess you probably wouldn't be allowed alcohol in hospital anyway."

"Pity." Nick mentions into his drink. "Nothing like a few shots of some of that hard stuff to take the edge of something like this."

He smiles again, bitterly. They both know that he can joke about it all he likes but, when he falls back asleep again, he'll be back in the box and screaming – screaming again.

"You'll get past it though, Nicky," he assured him. "You're made of stronger stuff than that – you proved that just by being alive now. It's all because you're smart and tough."

"No," Nick replies, picking absently at the tape that holds the IV line in and offers Warrick a smile. "I'm alive now because you all didn't lose your cool. Because some dope decided to pick a fight with the city's best CSIs."

Warrick sighs and sinks his head in his palm, elbows rested on the edge of Nick's mattress. "Lose our cool?" he raises a doubtful eyebrow. "Man, you have no idea. Ask Greg – I kicked an oil can right the way across a scene – totally soaked him in it." He chuckles slightly as though it were funny at the time. It wasn't. It really wasn't.

Nick opens his mouth to speak, but Warrick hasn't quite finished off-loading his guilt yet so he shuts it and sinks back in the pillows.

"And so Cath sent me back to the lab to work on something else. I was left watching the live feed from the web cam in the box." he continues. Nick blinks – he hadn't known there was a web cam. "It was me pressing that damn button all the time, Nicky. It was me turning on that light, cutting out the fan and draining away the battery. I can't believe we didn't realise. It was me, man." He sighs again and begins to punch at his forehead with his palms. "If anything had happened to you – it would all have been down to me."

"No, man – that's not right," Nick cuts him off. "Seriously – how could you have known? I didn't even know until later on and I was right inside there. Listen, 'Rick – you all did great. I mean, I'm still here. I owe ya one. It wasn't your fault."

But Warrick looks dubious. "And this?" Warrick adds. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the coin.

Nick recognises it with a smile. "That?" he says. "That's just a coin, 'Rick. A 50-50 chance. Nothing more." He pauses, waiting for his friend to let go of the unreasonable responsibility he's taking on board. "I'd rather it was me than you."

"Don't say that," Warrick mutters, shaking his head. "Seriously, don't say that."

"What?" Nick protests. "Everything worked out, didn't it? I'm still alive, aren't I? It could've been a lot worse, 'Rick." He glances at Warrick's pained expression. "And anyway," he adds as an afterthought. "That box only just fit me. You're taller than me and if it'd been you, you would've had some serious neck-pain issues."

Warrick laughs slightly. "I think neck-pain would be the least of my problems, Nicky," he tells him. "I don't know how long it would've been before I'd have taken that gun to my head, but it would've been far earlier than you, man."

"No way," Nick disputes fervently. "I don't believe that for one second. You're talking crap, 'Rick."

"I'm not, Nick, but never mind," Warrick waves away the argument. "I'm not here to have you assure me of something that I know isn't true."

"So why are you here?" Nick asks.

"You shouldn't have to be by yourself tonight," Warrick says simply. "Doctors want to keep you in for the rest of the week."

"The rest of the week!" Nick repeats, incredulously. "Are you kidding me? I thought they said I was fine."

Warrick shrugs his shoulders. "Psych and all, I guess. Don't worry, Grissom's working on getting you an early release. Trying to convince them that you'd make a better recovery in familiar surroundings. Said he read a paper on it a while back. But anyway – we all agreed you shouldn't have to spend any nights alone in here, so we're taking turns in keeping watch."

Nick grins. "Who's on Nick-watch tomorrow night?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Catherine," Warrick says. "I had to fight her to make her go home tonight. She was insistent on not leaving you, but then she has Lindsey at home and hadn't slept in over 24 hours."

"I remember hearing her voice," Nick says suddenly, squinting into the night-darkened corner of the room. "When it was right at the end and I think I was losing it. I remember hearing her telling me to hang on or something. I thought it might have just been my mind messing with me again..." He trails off as the memories become far too vivid and close.

"Get some rest," Warrick cuts him off immediately, seeing his distress. "You need it – we all do. Get some sleep. Everything's alright."

Nick nods and buries his head back into the pillows. "It's been..." he mumbles vaguely, shutting his eyes. "It's been wild."

Just before he drifts off to sleep, he hears Warrick chuckle at his comment.

"You can say that again."

And in the morning, when he hands over to the rest of the team and to Nick's parents who arrive in a whirlwind of activity and concern, he stops by the fountain that stands outside the hospital entrance. A small kid apparently undaunted by the plaster cast around his wrist walks the edge of the fountain with a Get Well Soon balloon trailing from his fist. His parents beckon him down from the marble walls of the fountain to take him home again.

Warrick reaches into his pocket and pulls out the coin. After looking at it with a moment's consideration, he flips it up in the air and watches as it hits the surface of the water, sinking slowly to settle with the other coins that sparkle on the surface. He smiles, rubs his tired eyes and heads back to his car. The silver coin, the newest one on the fountain floor, lands heads up again – for the second time in one helluva day.

- o -


	2. Catherine Willows

**Disclaimer: They are not mine.  
**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**Concrit! Great stuff – thank you very much! I always ask for concrit but I think people are often too polite to do it. Yes, now I come to think of it, he was taking it extremely well, considering! Sorry, I suppose I figured at the time that it was a mixture of him putting on a brave face for his friends and also it not having really sunken in yet. But you're right, two against one – and I hope this chapter is a little better. That's the beauty of it being a WIP, I guess – the only pro – that anything you suggest for change, can just be written in straight away. So again, any comments and pointers for Chapter Three would be really brilliant. Otherwise, thank you very much for the reviews, gckyr, Dane, Lissa88 (it really was!), everybetty, KatKnits00 and TheMusicalPoet. They were much appreciated as I'm sure you can tell. Also thanks to Eine Klein Katze, everybetty, HYPERPISCES, KASEY(KC, TheMusicalPoet and willows.x.speed for putting this fic on Story Alert. **

**I hope this is, at the very least, an improvement. Thanks for the encouragement and tips. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Five Night Observation. Chapter Two. Catherine Willows**

- o -**  
**

Breathe fast.

Breathe slow.

Nick fights the covers off and tangles his IV line with the blankets so it tugs at the needle and wakes him with a stinging jolt. Even under the high, white ceilings of the hospital ward room, that stinging still feels like the sharp bite of a fire ant and his lungs gasp in a rattling breath in desperate fear.

You're gonna die here.

He tries to sit up, struggling for cool, fresh air. Cold sweat. Panicked breathing. Eyes wide.

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay," Catherine cradles his face with a hand and strokes the only patch of his cheek that isn't marred by fire ant bites with her thumb. "It's just those dreams again, Nicky – it's okay."

"Cath," he chokes out, realising with relief where he is. "I thought I was –"

"I know, I know." she cuts him off. "That's only normal, Nicky. Here." She hands him a glass of water with a kind smile. Nick's hands tremble violently when he reaches to take it from her hands so, without saying a word, Catherine holds the rim of the glass to his lips instead. He takes a sip gratefully. She guessed his throat must be pretty dry – after all, she had just sat through his haunting screaming while he slept.

"Yeah – well it sucks," he mutters darkly and his lips tighten into a grim smile. "Oh well. It can only get better, right?"

"Without a doubt, Nicky," she assures him, returning his smile. "Without a doubt."

He shivers involuntarily. Every day his friends, his family, the people that he loves, come visiting with their faces carved in concern and anxiety. Nick Stokes was never one to cope well with making those he loved worry. So he plasters on a smile, bites down and cracks a joke on the surface, like skimming stones across dark waters and trying not to think about what lurks in the shadows below. But at night time, everything is in shadows. Everything is dark. And as soon as he closes his eyes to sleep, there's no difference between surface and shadow, no difference between reality and nightmare; they often cross over and become the same thing anyway.

Nick knows he screams and thrashes about in his sleep, even if no-one tells him. Why else would he wake up with a dry and cracked throat in the night? Why else does he find himself gasping for air, tangled in hospital sheets? Why else does he open his eyes wide to the night-sunken room and turn to his bedside where another loved one sits, watching him wordlessly with tear-welled eyes, begging him to wake up? Warrick...Catherine...who would be sitting there tomorrow night?

"I'm...I'm sorry, Catherine," he whispers hoarsely. Catherine starts.

"What?" she asks. "Sorry? What the hell for, Nicky?"

"Scaring you." He says.

"You didn't scare me," she lies, shaking her head. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Nicky. I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner. I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of the there before..."

She trails off. Before what? Before the fire ants? Or earlier? Before the oxygen-depleted coffin messed with his mind? Before all of it – before everything? She was sorry she'd sent him out there at all. She was sorry she hadn't gotten him out of there before anything had even begun.

"Don't you start too, Catherine," Nick tells her jadedly, rolling his eyes. "First Warrick and now you guilt-tripping on me." He smiles at her. "Can we all just let it go?"

Catherine looks at him sadly. That's exactly what they all want to do – as soon as he voices it he knows. His own plea, albeit masked in light-heartedness: _Can't we let it go? Can't I forget?_

"I wish we could."

Nick sighs. "I'm tired, Cath." he mumbles.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nicky," she sits up. "I'll let you sleep; I'm sorry."

"I can't sleep," he continues. "You know that – you heard me. When I'm asleep...when I'm asleep..."

Again, words fail them both. How can Catherine possibly put into words what it's like to watch him fight the nightmare and the memories that relentlessly catch up to him?

"Nicky, I'm so sorry," she blurts out, taking his hand in hers.

"How many times, Cath?" he says with faux-exasperation. "It wasn't your fault." He studies her face closely and can see she's about to cry. "Hey," he speaks up, brightly. "I heard what you did for me – getting the ransom money. Thank you, Cath."

She responds with a sharp, bitter laugh. "Not like it helped at all." she mutters. "It all got blown up along with the asshole who took you."

"But you tried, Cath – that's the important part," he insists.

"No, it's not, Nicky," she cuts him off. "Trying is not the important part – not in something like this. Succeeding is all that matters when it comes to your life. Trying doesn't count for crap, Nicky and you know that." She sighs and smiles slightly. "Stop trying to make me feel better. It should be the other way around."

He squeezes her hand. "It works both ways," he tells her. "Thank you for being here."

"Anytime, Nicky," she replies softly as he rests his head back deeply into the pillows and shuts his eyes. "Anytime."

And as he drifts off into a fitful sleep, Catherine stays sitting there at his bedside for the one-night watch they both needed. Chewing on her lower lip, she props her elbows against the mattress and sinks her head in her hands.

Night terrors lick at the edges of his dreamless sleep and crawl in, infesting every dark corner. In Exam Room 4, Nick Stokes starts off with distant murmurs, frowns and quiet whimpers – a child again, frightened by the night and all that hides within. He stirs in his bed and the stirring becomes shaking and the shaking becomes flailing. He starts to scream again, those tortured yells all within his sleep.

Catherine rubs her tears off onto her sleeve every now and then as she leans over him, perched on the edge of her chair. She touches his face gently, wanting both to wake him up and save him and to let him get his much-needed sleep.

"It's alright, Nicky," she whispers in a motherly way as his face contorts itself at the horrors he relives beneath closed eyes. She strokes his hair. "Everything's okay, Nicky, sweetie."

Nick Stokes is six years old again. He remembers past the horrific memories and sinks further back into the past. Another night, another bad dream; Nicky clambers into his parent's bed.

_Another bad dream, Nicky?_

He nods his head and chews on his pyjama sleeve. His mother smiles gently at him and strokes his soft brown hair lightly. Flashes of blindingly bright lights clicking on and off seem to fade slightly. The whir of the fan in the clamouring heat of the glass coffin seems to be muffled a little.

_It's okay now, though, sweetie. You can go back to sleep. It's just a dream. Everything's okay._

Catherine smiles grimly at the tears that leak from the corners of Nick's eyes, tightly shut but he stops thrashing about in the bed so much. His screaming becomes more infrequent and less piercing. It can only get better. Without a doubt.

_Everything's okay._

- o -_  
_


	3. Sara Sidle

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. Could I ever make a finale up to the standard of Grave Danger? Christ no.**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**So that was better – wasn't it? Thanks for the reviews, they were really wonderful and very supportive. Sorry to Scarlett – I didn't credit your review for Chapter One but I got it just a second too late, luckily your comments were the same as Dane and everybetty's so hopefully Chapter Two was a bit more up to standard. **

**Thank you for the Chapter Two reviews, tria246815 (your wait is over! But don't forget – absolutely no rock solid pairings in this fic), KatKnits00, everybetty (am so glad you liked that part! And it's all about the readers really anyway – you all had a point; it wasn't realistic. Three instalments? There are still three to come after this one! But no Brass, sorry!), MissyJane, Kristen999, NothingButSarah (Yes! They all were truly fantastic in the finale – some real first class acting. The best season finale of any show I've ever seen.), willows.x.speed, September and KASEY(KC.**

** Some really lovely reviews there – please keep the feedback coming in. Who do ya reckon will be next? Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Five Night Observation. Chapter Three. Sara Sidle**

- o -

He'd forgotten this part - the part where he's lying on the cold metal slab in Doc Robbins' autopsy room. He looks up at his friends that gather around him, waiting with both anticipation and dread for Doctor Al to make that first incision into dead flesh.

I'm dead, he thinks, oh shit – I'm dead.

Nick gazes around at the faces that surround his body. He sees Warrick's face scrunched in anguish; he's probably tormenting himself with far more guilt than he can handle. Opposite him stands Catherine, half-covering her face with her palms so he cannot read her expression, but her hands tremble and her shoulders shake. Grissom has one hand on her shoulder and he stands like solidarity, with a stony expression but a kind of aching resignation to the truth that stares them in the face. Sara is on Nick's left. She's biting down on her lower lip and not making a sound as rivers of tears track their way down her cheeks. Greg, standing between her and Warrick, is close to the same stage and he grips tightly onto the edge of the table as though it's the only thing holding him up.

"Are you ready?" Doc Robbins murmurs in the silent room. He holds a scalpel deftly between his gloved fingers. Grissom gives a nod.

"No!" Nick tries to scream – does scream – but nobody seems to hear. "No, I'm not ready, dammit!"

Al carefully begins to drag the blade down the centre of his chest in the way an artist sweeps a paintbrush with precision and beauty.

"Can you hear me?" Nick yells. "I'm still alive – stop it."

Warrick grabs Al's arm, mid-incision. His eyes narrow. His breathing stops.

"Do you hear that?" he says, quietly. Everyone in the room pauses.

"Thank you!" Nick sighs. "Jesus, man – that was a close one."

"Yeah, I do." Catherine says, bringing her hands back from her tear-stained face. "A kind of...rustling?"

"What_ is_ that?" Grissom leans closer.

The next sequences of events happen in a sickening rush that Nick sees before his eyes with such vividness that his whole body seems to seize up and shake. His eyes widen in horror as he watches the neat incision Doctor Al Robbins has made, split deeper on its own. The flesh on his chest parts evenly in a biblical Red Sea fashion. And there – out of the gaping wound in his chest, millions of fire ants scramble. They fight over each other and chew away at his insides, spilling out of the gash on his chest and picking with tiny mouths at his stark white ribcage. Thousands and thousands; all feasting on his entrails in the cavity of his chest and crawling, crawling, crawling.

He knows he's screaming now. He's screaming and screaming as he tries to move away from what's in his own body. The autopsy room is now empty. There's no Doc Robbins standing over him with scalpel in hand. There's no faceless Grissom, no shaking Catherine, no pale Greg or guilt-ridden Warrick.

But there is a crying Sara. She's still there.

"Nick," she whispers through tears. She sniffs and rubs her eyes with forearm. "Nicky, please wake up." She's clasping his left hand in hers and brings it up to her chest as she stands at his bedside. "Please, please wake up."

His eyes blink open. He stops screaming with a jolt.

"Oh...oh god." he manages to get out in a constricted voice. "They were – they were everywhere." His skin feels chilled and all his hairs stand on end. His body won't stop convulsing.

"It's okay, Nicky." she tells him. "It wasn't real; it's all in your head." But from her face which holds a mixture of shock, regret and pain, he knows it's not 'okay' as he's been so persistently told. It's not okay at all.

"I thought it would get better. You all told me it'd get better," he says accusingly, catching his breath. The hand Sara's holding stops trembling so violently and the convulsions relax into quaking shivers. "But it's not. It's getting worse."

Sara sighs and takes a seat by his bed. "I don't know what to say, Nicky." She absent-mindedly strokes his hand as it lies in her lap and sighs again. "How could we have let this happen to you?"

Nick doesn't respond; he doesn't know if he has the energy to assure them over again that it what happened to him was none of their faults. As much as he loves Sara, he feels far too weak and tired to even begin to convince her she wasn't to blame.

"I mean," she continues. "If we'd lost you, Nicky, I don't know if I would be able to..."

He never gets to find out what she doesn't know if she'd be able to do because, at that point, Sara's voice fails her again and the tears start to fall down her face again. Nick stares at her for a moment in shock. He had no idea she was taking it so badly.

"Oh Sar..." he murmurs. "Please don't cry. Come on Sara – don't cry on me now. You know how much I hate it when you cry."

She laughs slightly and smiles at him, shaking her head. "You should have seen me two nights ago," she tells him. "You should have seen all of us two nights ago."

"I'm glad I didn't if it was anything like now," he kids gently. She dries her eyes again and grins.

"It was worse," she says. "Sorry – I'm done now."

"Good," he squeezes her hand. "Because there's really nothing to cry about; I'm fine."

The smile wipes itself from her face when she sighs. The silence fills them both until she speaks up quietly.

"Nicky – I've been sitting here all night, you know."

His own face falls. Of course – she'd been there while he was sleeping, she'd heard those screams and they both know he is not fine.

"I will be," he asserts with more determination than he feels. "I'll be alright."

"You will – I know you will," she nods firmly.

He pauses, wondering whether or not to voice the nightmares that chase him when he sleeps. He doesn't want Sara to worry – but she's already worrying, and he wants to get it out – then maybe he can start on getting better again.

"It was those ants," he begins. He looks across at Sara but she only waits for him to continue. "I know it sounds stupid, but I keep having these nightmares about everything that happened. And tonight was the worst one. I was dead in this one – at least, you all thought I was dead. I was on Doc Robbins' table with all of you standing around and he cuts open my chest." He shudders at the memory. "And inside were all these fire ants. Full of them. All eating away and crawling out..."

Nick turns to Sara with haunted eyes.

"Oh Nicky," she says softly. She bites down on her lip again, furious at herself. "His daughter was right there. She _told _us about her gardening plot and I just ignored her. We could have got you out of there before the ants. But I didn't listen – I was so stupid."

"Hey, Sar – if you'd done that, we'd all have been blown to pieces, wouldn't we?" he reminds her. He raises his eyebrows at her and tries to shrug it off. "What time is it?" he asks, changing the subject.

Sara glances at her wristwatch. "Half three in the morning."

He smiles. "My Mom and Dad will be heading to the airport soon. They're flying home tonight."

"Do you want me to get them on the phone?" Sara offers, getting to her feet. "Before they go?" But Nick grabs her arm quickly before she's even taken a step away from the bed.

"No." he says sharply. "No – don't leave me, Sara."

Sara looks at him, almost surprised at the sudden helplessness in his voice; a steep contrast from his casual conversation just seconds earlier.

"I really want to sleep," he goes on. "But I don't want to be alone. I don't want to wake up alone."

"Okay...okay – it's okay," she soothes as his voice gets tighter and words run together. She hesitates and then perches on the bed. Nick smiles thankfully and shuffles over on the hospital mattress to rest his head in her lap.

"Thank you."

Sara shrugs her shoulders and takes his hand again. "Hey, that's what I'm here for, Nicky." she answers and presses a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand. "Go to sleep. If it gets too much, I'll wake you up again."

He shuts his eyes.

"You promise?" he asks her in a small voice, childlike once again. "Because I can't take any more of those dreams."

"I promise, Nicky," she pledges. "I promise."

Sara doesn't even realise for how long she's stays sitting like that, waiting for the nightmares to swallow up her colleague, friend and surrogate-brother again. But he's quiet. And it isn't until she looks out of the window and sees the orange-pink-red morning sunrise stretch out beyond the Desert Palms blinds, that Sara realises with a smile that she's just been sitting there for two and a half hours, with Nick's head resting calmly in her lap and his steady breathing filling the otherwise quiet room.

- o -


	4. Greg Sanders

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. Could I ever make a finale up to the standard of Grave Danger? Christ no.**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**Okay, here's the thing. I'm going to be away for two weeks after this. I'll see what I can do to try and get the final two chapters up, but no guarantees. I'm very sorry about that – please bear with me with this! You've been absolutely fantastic reviewers so thank you so much for that. Thanks to tria246815, higherbeingfriendfan, rojaji, Mma63, NothingButSarah, KASEY(KC, KatKnits00, icklebitodd, cherishedcrush and Review1234. More feedback would be brilliant but you're all being brilliant already so thank you. Sorry for the possible delays to updating after this; I hope this chapter keeps you going for part of the way. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Five Night Observation. Chapter Four. Greg Sanders**

- o -

Tonight, Nick's dreams feature the one and only Gil Grissom. Stuck once again inside that glass coffin, Nick stares desperately upwards at the supervisor. His memory is blurred by the oxygen deprivation, the heat inside the glass coffin that might as well be a greenhouse and the maddening relentlessness of the fire ants. Through the haze, Gil Grissom puts his hand palm down on the surface.

_Nick!_

Nick is confused. He tentatively brings his hand up to mirror his on the other side of this glass-sealed hell. It's refreshingly cold.

_Nick! It's okay, Nick..._

And Nick thinks to himself - maybe he's right. Maybe he's right this time.

But then the dream changes. Grissom becomes Walter Gordon – Nick remembers his face and the surprise he felt. He'd wondered why the man didn't have any hang-ups about Nick seeing him, face-to-face; was he _that_ confident that Nick wouldn't make it out alive? It was only until afterwards that he found out Gordon had nothing to lose. He just didn't care.

So the man now standing over him, hand-on-glass, is Gordon and, as Nick presses against the glass, it begins to sink slowly downwards. Walter Gordon is pushing down on the coffin lid and the space in which Nick will spend the last seconds of his life gets smaller and smaller.

_Nick!_

"Help me!" he screams. "No!"

Walter Gordon grins and pushes down harder. Nick's arms give way; he hasn't got a chance against the man. Not only has Gordon got the height advantage, but Nick's just too tired now. He's too tired and weak and now he just doesn't care. His arms get pushed to his sides and he leans his head back, sobbing as he feels the glass lid press down on his chest. There is a series of sickening cracks in which Nick's aware that every rib in his lifeless, suffocated body is snapping.

"Nick!" Greg, both hands grasping Nick by the chest and shoulders, is shaking him lightly. "Come on, Nick – wake up."

Nick is awake, cold sweat running off his face along with the tears. Greg looks frightened as he tries to wake up his friend.

"You were...you were screaming and I couldn't..." Greg trails off. It sounds like such a trivial thought now that it isn't backed by the terrible sounds of Nick's nightmarish screams, but he couldn't take much more. "I couldn't just sit there and watch you without doing anything. I did quite enough of that three nights back." Greg offers a self-deprecating smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Greggo..." Nick splutters out, trying to plaster on a cheerful grin but failing in his trembling confusion, still caught somewhere between waking and dreaming. "Can I have a drink or something?"

"Huh? Oh, of course, sorry, sure," Greg flusters, shakily pouring out a glass of water.

"You alright there, Greggo?" Nick asks cautiously. Greg looks up at him and, in doing so, he misses the cup and pours the jug of water onto the floor.

"Oh shit," Greg mutters and quickly drops to wipe it up. Nick laughs hoarsely.

"Thanks man – I needed that," Nick smirks. Greg kneels up and grins, though in any other situation he'd have argued against him for it. Anything counts now – anything to get Nick back on his feet.

"Glad to be of service," Greg beams and succeeds in pouring out a glass of water which he hands to Nick, triumphantly. "I should be the one asking you that question, anyway."

Nick sips slowly at his water. "What question?"

"'Are you alright?'" Greg clarifies. Nick raises his eyebrows and Greg presses on. "And are you?"

"I've been better, Greggo," Nick answers dryly. "Did I sound alright to you?"

Greg shakes his head fervently. "No; you sounded horrible," Greg tells him honestly. Nick laughs again darkly.

"Yeah, so I've been told," Nick says. "Join the crowd; Warrick, Catherine and Sara – one night with me and you go home traumatised. Not much of a pick-up line, is it?" He stares bleakly into his glass of water.

"Not exactly," Greg comments quietly, not sure of what else he can say.

"Oh well. It's not much fun for me, either," Nick continues.

"But it'll get better," Greg assures him with wide, earnest eyes. "It's just a process, Nicky. It's gonna get better."

"Greggo, man, as much as I'd love to believe that – it's consistently getting worse," Nick corrects him in a matter-of-fact way. "Do you want to hear what I dreamt tonight?"

"Okay." Greg says, though after hearing the screams, he really didn't.

"I was back in the box again," Nick begins. "I remembered Grissom with his hand on the lid when I was in there and he was in the dream. But then he changes somehow into Walter Gordon and starts to press down on the lid. I could feel it though, I swear – it was so vivid. I swear I heard and felt every rib crack." Nick looks back at Greg to see his expression. Greg looks pale.

"Huh," is Greg's only response. Nick nods.

"Yeah."

"So it's not getting any better then?" Greg asks tentatively. Nick smiles wryly.

"No, Greggo, no it's not," Nick tells him.

"Man." Greg remarks, sounding let-down.

"What?"

"I've never seen you so bummed before, Nick." Greg says. "You're talking as though there's just no hope left at all."

"Well it's a little hard to feel as though things are getting better when you can't sleep a full night without waking yourself up screaming," Nick snaps. "Or when you actually truly fear falling asleep despite how much you desperately need it, because you know what waits for you when you finally drop off and you know you can't face that again. It's a little hard to feel as though this is all just some learning curve I'm going through when it gets worse every night."

Greg sits back in his chair, a little surprised at Nick's bitter outburst.

"Sorry, man." Greg whispers.

Nick sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "No, I'm sorry, Greggo." Nick shakes his head. "I just...Jesus Christ, I'm so sick of this. Why can I just let it go? I'm so tired."

There's a silence that follows because neither of them have the answer to his questions.

"Grissom's working on getting you out sooner," Greg pipes up eventually. "He's thinking maybe tomorrow night will be your last night in here. That maybe you'll get better faster when you're back in familiar settings with your friends."

Nick nods. "Yeah, I'd like that." he says. "Doesn't feel like home here. Too...clean."

"Yeah, and I've seen your place," Greg laughs. "'Clean' is not a word I'd use to describe it."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!" Nick protests, a smile starting to light the darkest edges of his harrowed face. "It's comfortable!"

"I slept on your couch once and I woke up with ketchup on my face," Greg replies.

Nick laughs out loud, remembering one late-night he, Greg, Warrick and Sara had spent staying up watching movies. They'd all never seen each others' favourite movies and decided on a marathon screening at Nick's place one night following a particularly rough case. Greg had fallen asleep shortly after the second movie and Sara, growing restless with sitting still for so long, decided to take advantage of the deep-sleeper.

"Whoa, man! Sara's idea – not mine!" Nick holds up his hands in submission. "You're lucky we talked her out of her original weapon of choice."

Greg cocks his head. "Oh really? And what would that be?" he asks.

"Seriously man, you just don't want to know." Nick says with a grin. Greg opens his mouth to argue back but then decides against it. Perhaps it really is better if he doesn't know what Sara was planning on pouring on his head.

"See?" Greg points out, noticing Nick's now much happier face. "This is why you need to be at home and not stuck in some sterile hospital. Grissom's really winning over the doctors. He keeps on bringing in medical journals he roots up to prove his case. They're getting kinda sick of him; he reckons they'll cave soon enough."

Nick chuckles. "Nice one, Griss."

"So don't worry about it, Nicky," Greg assures him gently. "We've got it all sorted. You'll be home soon and you'll get better. For now, though, you'd better get some rest. Show those doctors you're well enough to go home, right?"

"Will you keep talking though, Greggo?" Nick asks meekly. "Maybe if I'm listening to something else when I fall asleep, I'll dream that instead." He pauses. "The air con in here, man...it sounds like..."

He doesn't need to say what it sounds like. Greg can hear the mechanical whirring and shuddering of the fan in the silence that follows Nick's timid request.

"Sure thing, Nicky," Greg smiles bravely. "You remember that time we all went to the ice hockey last year? And Catherine broke the nose of that drunken beef-head who grabbed her butt? Never seen a right-hook like it in my life..."

A smile spreads across Nick's face as he starts to drift off into a deep sleep with Greg's animated chattering providing a welcome backing. He'd be home soon, he hangs onto that thought. He'll be back with the people he loves and he'll get over this. He'll get over this.

"...and remember Grissom's face after that? Hilarious. He looked so shocked after that and Catherine just sort of rubbed her knuckles a little before taking her seat. And we were all saying what a nice shot it was on Catherine's part but Griss was just staring at her, open-mouthed. I wish I'd had a camera, man. Best day..."

He'll get over this.

- o -


	5. Gil Grissom

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. Could I ever make a finale up to the standard of Grave Danger? Christ no.**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**Okay, so here we go. If you're reading this, it's because the very wonderful Ria aka WishIWasSam has put it up for me. I'm probably off somewhere holidaying it up in the States and haven't read your reviews, if I have any. I'll thank you all at some point, I promise. But if you've reviewed – thank you very much. Grissom's speech here is taken from the website for the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services. Ha! Let's hope I manage to write the next chapter before I have to leave for the airport...Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -

**Five Night Observation. Chapter Five. Gil Grissom**

- o -

Nick is very quiet. He lies vaguely still in his hospital bed and doesn't make a sound much above breathing level. Gil Grissom looks up from another of his many newly-acquired medical journals and fixes the sleeping Nick with a hard stare.

"You're awake, aren't you?" he says eventually. Nick opens his eyes, lying sideways on the pillow.

"What gave me away?" he smiles tiredly. Grissom shrugs.

"From all I've heard about what to expect while you're asleep, you were far too quiet," Grissom answers simply. Nick raises an eyebrow.

"Well I thought I'd spare you and me both that trauma for one night," Nick remarks bitterly.

Grissom closes the journal on his lap and puts it softly on the floor. "You can't stay awake forever, Nick." Grissom tells him gently.

"Watch me." Nick mutters.

"I could always bore you to sleep with a talk on fruit fly larvae," Grissom offers with a slight smile. "Catherine once told me I could sedate a rhinoceros on heat with that lecture."

Nick grins. "Catherine said that?"

Grissom nods and draws his chair closer to the bed. "Well she wasn't very happy with me at the time," he explains. "I did something to get on the wrong side of her, or something – I can't remember what. All I remember is that you never want to turn Catherine against you."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Nick says. "Greg was in here last night reminding me of that guy whose nose was broken by Cath at the ice hockey."

"I mean, I knew she was tough but I never expected a punch like that out of her," Grissom comments, echoes of the day play back in his mind. Nick smirks again, remembering what Greg went on to say about Grissom's expression.

As Grissom's mind starts to wander off into nostalgia, Nick sits up in bed and points to the journal on the floor.

"What're you reading there, Griss?" he asks casually.

"This?" Grissom picks it up. "A damn good reason why you should get out of here, that's what."

"Oh really?" Nick peers at the hefty journal. "And is it working?"

"This is just the start," Grissom waves the journal at him. "I have at least seven more in my car but the doctors told me to leave it there; they don't want to hear anymore out of me." Grissom grins. "They're letting you go home tomorrow."

Nick beams. "You serious? That's great. Thank you!"

"No problem," Grissom shrugs it off. "I'm very good at making myself a royal pain in the ass when I want to." He glances at Nick. "Catherine's words again."

Nick laughs and shakes his head. "Well whatever it was – thank you. And not just for being a pain in the ass. For everything."

"The doctors weren't so bad, actually," Grissom waves away Nick's thanks. "It was the nurses that were the biggest trouble. But then I think that'd down to something else altogether." He raises his eyebrows slyly at Nick. "I caught them at the nurse's station flipping coins to see who got to sponge-bathe you today."

Nick chuckles. "Oh man," he groans. "You think that's why I had three yesterday? That's not normal is it?"

"Three nurses?"

"Three sponge-baths."

Grissom laughs. "No, I don't think it is."

Nick sighs and shakes his head again. "Well you should warn them," he begins darkly. "Flipping coins is a tricky business."

Grissom only looks at him, unable to think of any words of reassurance at the time.

"Well anyway," Grissom says. "You'll be home this time tomorrow."

"And when can I come back to work?" Nick asks immediately.

"I was waiting for you to ask that question," Grissom grins. "Not for a while I think. Your psych consultant has told me personally that if I let you go back to work within the next month, she'd personally come down to the lab and hospitalize us both."

"A month?" Nick repeats outraged. "What am I gonna do for a month? Sit at home and mope?" Grissom holds up his hands.

"Hear me out here, Nick." Grissom interjects. "So I'm thinking, maybe you take a week off – do something fun. I'll fit you in for a short shift on the following Monday and we'll take it from there."

"Thanks, Griss." Nick smiles gratefully. "The sooner I get back into my normal routine, the better."

Grissom nods. "That's what I said," he agrees. "But if anyone asks – you're just visiting."

Nick laughs. "Sure thing." Grissom checks his watch and leans forwards in his chair.

"Hey, Nicky." Grissom says. "It's pretty late and you still haven't slept. I really think you should get some sleep so the nurses don't have anymore excuses to keep you in longer. Don't want to make all my hard work for nothing, do you?"

Nick's expression changes to a fearful dread. "Can't I just..?"

"I'll wake you up if you start having nightmares, I promise." Grissom cuts him off. Nick looks surprised. "I talked to Sara," Grissom elaborates. "You know me – I like to do my research."

"Clearly." Nick comments, glancing at the thick medical journal. Grissom smiles.

"So how about it?" he asks. "Try sleeping for a bit? I can start on my fruit fly talk now, if you like."

Nick grins. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'll try the sleeping thing though," he looks cautiously at Grissom. "You'd better wake me up though. You don't know what it's like..."

"No. You're right. I don't." Grissom says. "But I'll wake you up, I promise."

Nick nods. He _was_ very tired. Maybe things won't be so bad if he gets some sleep. At least he'll be back home tomorrow. So he shuts his eyes and lets himself drift off into a fitful sleep.

The hospital air conditioning fan in the room whirrs in the background. As Nick sleeps, the background becomes the foreground and Nick is buried again. It whirs and shudders and everything becomes enclosed and claustrophobic. He can't move for glass walls and the cracks start to snake themselves up the sides of the box.

"No..." Nick murmurs. The box is gonna cave in.

"No – please, don't..." The cracks are making their way towards him. The glass splinters. The earth above him heaves. Even the ants are scuttling away, like rats from a sinking ship.

"Help me!" he screams. "Help me!" The sides of the box buckles. The lid starts to sink down...

"Nick." Grissom shakes him awake. Nick sits up, suddenly, breathing fast. He turns to Grissom with wide and terror-stricken eyes.

"Griss..." he gasps for air. "How...how long was that?"

Grissom looks at the clock on the wall. "Maybe an hour and a half." Grissom says.

Nick frowns and chews on his lower lip. "I really felt it." he murmurs, haunted. "Everything was coming down on me."

"Listen, Nick." Grissom takes his hand. "You'll get over this. You'll move past this and you'll be alright. You're tougher than most, Nick, and that will count for something. Just remember this – you'll be home tomorrow. Everything will get back to normal. I'm not saying you'll forget this, but you'll be able to deal with it. It won't be controlling you. Just remember that."

Nick nods dumbly. "When?" he asks helplessly.

"Soon." Grissom promises. Nick nods again, believing and trusting him completely. He checks the clock and puts on a smile.

"So how about that lecture then, Griss?" Nick suggests with a weak smile, throwing a brief glance at the air conditioning grate.

Grissom grins. "Just to humour me?"

"Something like that." Nick shrugs.

"Well, I'm so glad you asked." Grissom says and clears his throat.

"You haven't got it written down anywhere?" Nick asks curiously. Grissom shakes his head.

"No," he replies earnestly. "It's all by memory."

Nick chuckles. He should've known as he sinks back into his pillow.

"In 8 May 2003. Fruit fly-infested hot peppers were found at two retail locations in Pinellas County..." he launches. Nick grins to himself. "You know I had a whole slideshow that went with this once." Grissom sidetracks, noticing the grin. "Had some great photos. You must remind me to show it to you sometime."

"Will do, Griss." Nick laughs.

"Live larvae of an _Anastrepha_ species, likely _A. ludens_, the Mexican fruit fly, were in 'manzano' peppers. Identification from the larval stage was tentative, but their identity as _Anastrepha ludens_ was confirmed from specimens reared under quarantine to the adult stage on the 2nd of June 2003..."

"_Hey, Pancho. You digging to New Zealand there, buddy?"_

_Seven-year old Nick sets down his plastic shovel and looks up at his father with a beam. He has mud all over his knees and shorts. _

"...Peppers apparently originated in Mexico and crossed the border into Texas, whence live fruit fly larvae have been delivered to at least six additional U.S. states..."

"_Looking for worms." Nick explains and points to the red bucket full of worms._

"_Worms, huh?" His father peers into the bucket. "What are you gonna do with them, Pancho?"_

"_Put them in Becky's room." Nick replies simply, uprooting more lumps of earth. His father laughs and ruffles his hair._

"_Digging up worms to scare your sister, huh?" he chuckles. "Good luck to ya, my boy."_

_Nick just carries on digging. There is dirt all over his hands and clothes. Ants scuttle over the ground undisturbed but the sun is on his back and his father puts his baseball cap onto his son's head before wandering back up the garden into the house. _

"...Mexican fruit fly larvae are up to 12 mm long and about 2 mm diameter, and creamy white in colour; the body is mostly cylindrical but tapered at the head end, which terminates in a pair of very fine black mouthhooks..."

- o -


	6. Nick Stokes

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. Could I ever make a finale up to the standard of Grave Danger? Christ no.**

**Rating: K+ or PG**

**Pairings: None at all**

**Spoilers: Spoiler heavy for Grave Danger.**

**Summary: Nick is kept under hospital observation for 5 nights following Grave Danger. With a different team member watching him each night, they can each find their own resolve. No pairings. Focused on each character. WIP.**

**Alright you brilliant readers, you – this is where you get all your thank-yous for the wonderful reviews that I found when I got back from my two weeks in Canada and America – both of which are lovely by the way. So here we go, thank you Kristen999 (one hella long review there, how I love you), KatKnits00, MissyJane, KASEY(KC, higherbeingfriendsfan, Meg, mellowyellow63, cherishedcrush, PRTFCSI, NothingButSarah, Review1234 (as ever), Reius Devirix, Kadyann, Mma63 and angie b as well as everyone who went through other fics of mine and reviewed them too. I'd love to add comments in brackets to you all because so many of these were really brilliant reviews but this final chapter is already pretty long and I don't want to drag you down with inane ramblings. So thanks once again for the fantastic support in writing this.**

**I very much hope this final chapter does not disappoint – I personally feel it's too disjointed but hey, concrit is always good. Coming next will be the Sara-centric/WarrickSara story _Wake The Hope _so if that sort thing floats your boat, please check it out! I'm shutting up now. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Five Night Observation. Chapter Six. Nick Stokes**

- o -

Nick sways in the sunlight outside for a moment and blinks a couple of times as he stands in the Desert Palms parking lot. Warrick shoulders his bag and grins at him on his right-hand side along with Greg and Grissom while Sara and Catherine stand to his left. They all watch him closely. A smile breaks onto his face but whether it's relief, happiness or just for show, he isn't really sure.

"Ride home, Nicky?" Warrick offers, opening the door of his Tahoe. Nick looks at them all. Both Catherine and Grissom also came in their own cars, ready to taxi Nick back home again if he needed.

"If it's outta your way, man..." Nick begins almost shyly under the pressure of everyone staring at him, waiting for his reactions.

"No problem, Stokes – I'm trekking it out of my way to take these two home and they haven't even got a good excuse," Warrick jabs his thumb at Sara and Greg on either side of him. The pair of them shrug, smile and climb into the car. They all know that their good excuse is to _be _an excuse – an excuse for them all to chip in and help Nick out without him having to ask for it or feel he's being a burden.

Sara winds down the window. "Coming, Nicky?" she chirps, a whole lot brighter than a few nights back but then everything and everyone is different in this dawn light.

"We could get some take-out food on the way back and hang out or something." Greg suggests, clambering over Sara to poke his head out of the window. Nick chuckles as Sara irritably shoves Greg off.

"Looks like you're out-voted, Nicky." Catherine comments, heading over to her own car. She pauses and gives him a tight hug, murmuring into his ear quietly, "You know you can call me at any time if you need some company at all – you know that, right?"

"I know – thanks, Cath." He replies with a smile as she nods and jumps into her car.

"At least take the ride home, man." Warrick wheedles. Nick grins.

"Okay, fine," he relents with an exaggerated sigh. "Just the ride – you don't have to hang out or anything. I'm sure y'all busy with other stuff."

"Well you kids have fun," Grissom says, unlocking his car with the remote key. "Take care of yourself, Nicky. We'll need you back at the lab as soon as possible."

Nick waves a thanks at Grissom as both supervisors' cars slip out of the parking lot before he turns back to Warrick's Tahoe and climbs into the passenger seat.

"Just the ride, 'Rick." Nick warns him and, where Greg might've muttered a bitter 'Well you're no fun,' he was greeted only by an obliging silence. He knew what was running through all their heads – don't push him. It made him flinch to think of it: that they were cautiously stepping around him and going easy on him. And it made him ever-more determined not to be such a baby and to take it on the chin. If he was honest with himself at all, the thought of his first night alone terrified him but it looked like he'd just have to get through it.

-

"You sure we can't convince you to come out for a beer with us?" Sara persists, hanging out of the window again as Nick jumps down from the Tahoe just by his front door.

"Just one?" echoes Greg in similarly pleading tones.

Nick shakes his head with a smile. "Sorry guys, count me out. I should really get some – sleep." He almost chokes that last word out but they all pretend they don't hear it. "Have fun though!" He adds cheerily, heading up to his front door and flashing one last overly-wide smile before disappearing alone into his house.

Warrick sighs at the wheel as he rolls the car slowly away. Sara sinks back into her seat with a similar sigh and Greg chews on his tongue.

"You think he'll be alright?" Greg voices quietly after a while.

"When?" Sara mutters. Greg glances at her. Not today that's for sure - maybe not this week – but some day. Soon, they hoped.

"Come on," Warrick broke the silence heavily. "I really could use a beer right now."

-

Nick wanders dazedly through his house. It's late evening now and he's been wandering about like this since he got in – like some troubled spirit – he won't rest. And how can he? There's no guarantee of him waking up beside someone who'll look after him and assure him that everything's okay anymore. Even if it had lost all meaning by now, it was still some kind of comfort to hear it when he woke up screaming in the night. It was just reassuring to hear that someone was there for him.

But that's the thing – they _are_ there for him, he knows that and they'll tell him again if he ever gave them half the chance. He just can't bring himself to call them up again and ask more of them. How could he ask for more? They've each spent their own long and upsetting night keeping vigil at his bedside, being the Loyal Friends and Trusted Companions that he always knew they were. He just couldn't call them up again and ask them to come back just because he couldn't handle a night alone. He'd have to get over it one day, he tells himself firmly. And the sooner he confronts this, he's sure, the sooner he'll get better. Hopefully.

He sinks onto his couch and sighs. So sleep then, he challenges himself. But he can't. He knows he can't. He's just not ready yet. He yawns widely and stares up at the ceiling in despair. Just what the hell is he going to do now?

Like a celestial response to his angry, silent prayer, the doorbell rings and he drags himself to his feet.

"So we were heading out to the Strip just now when we thought – what are we doing?" Warrick launches as soon as Nick opens the door. He looks amused and surprised to see Sara, Greg and Warrick back again and standing on his doorstep. "Or more importantly – what are _you _doing?"

"Your first night home in – what? – a week? – and there's no homecoming party, no drinks, nothing?" Sara takes over as Warrick walks past Nick, into his house. "I mean, that's just rude, Nicky." Sara shakes her head and follows Warrick in.

"But don't worry," Greg finishes up, heading in after Sara. "We've got it covered with six-packs and movies." He waves a handful of DVDs at Nick and gestures to the six-packs in Warrick and Sara's hands. "You really should think these things through, Nick."

Nick says nothing for a while. He stares, open-mouthed at the trio that have trooped into his living room and are already making themselves comfortable, turning lights on, fighting over the TV remote and uncapping beers with his bottle opener. A big grin spreads across his face as his sleep-deprived mind registers exactly what they've done.

"Just chick-flicks I'm afraid," Greg calls back from where he kneels at the DVD player. He shoots at glance back at Nick. "That's what you get when you ask a girl to rent some movies."

"I resent that." Sara mutters from the couch and chucks a cushion at Greg's head but gives up the fight shortly afterwards. Now that wasn't like Sara at all – a notorious chick-flick-hater, she wouldn't have let a comment like that from Greg go that easily but again, Nick recognises, they're acting the excuses for him now. He realises only now that he didn't really feel up for sitting through their usual crime thrillers with big-budget explosions and tense hostage situations. Far too close to home.

"Here ya go, man." Warrick presses a cold beer into his hand and grins. "Welcome home." He knocks his own glass bottle against his as Sara and Greg repeat his words, raising their drinks in the air in a half-assed toast. It makes all the difference.

"So hey, what're you putting on there, Greggo?" Warrick changes the subject sharply as he senses Nick about to tell them he knows what they're all doing – he doesn't need to do that.

"Bridget Jones' Diary." Greg reads off the rental box. He raises his eyebrows at Sara. "So you like British guys, huh, Sar? Why didn't you tell me? I would've offered to take you out for tea and crumpets." He puts on a melodramatic British accent for his last offer and Sara only shoots him a threatening look as the doorbell goes again.

"I'll get that." Nick says, backing out of the room.

"You know you're lucky I've used up all these cushions on you already, Sanders." Sara tells him darkly and Nick opens up the front door for the second time in the last half hour, he finds Catherine and Lindsey on the steps.

"Hey," Catherine begins with a smile. "Sorry about this, Nicky, but could we crash at your place tonight? We're having the house fumigated. I'd stay at Gil's but if he found out my reasons he'd be running over there to save those damn bugs."

"Yep." Lindsey chips in with a big grin and she holds up a few boxes. "And we brought pizza."

Catherine squeezes her daughter's shoulder gently and adjusts the rucksack on her back. "Just for one night."

"Stay as long as you like," Nick assures her, standing aside to let her in though he knows that if he asked Catherine about the fumigation again next week she wouldn't have a clue what he was on about.

"Thanks, Nicky." Catherine says gratefully, heading into the living room.

"Hey! Catherine and Lindsey made it!" Greg cheers from the armchair on the other side of the room and both Sara and Warrick looked up. Catherine beams around the room – she should've known that they'd have the same idea as her.

"And we brought pizzas!" Lindsey pipes up, holding the boxes up. Nick lifts the lid on the top one and hands it over to Sara.

"Veggie." he says and she takes it with a grin.

"Oh wow, I love you," she chirps happily at Catherine and Lindsey as the pair of them join her on the couch. Nick sinks into the comfortable space between them and sits back, beer in hand and listening with a smile to Catherine tentatively querying Sara's movie choice.

Sara, however, took it remarkably well considering the amount Greg took advantage of teasing her throughout the movie. Nick knew she was only doing it to uphold the false pretences that brought them all here and thought that perhaps Greg deserved a little revenge after the whole tomato ketchup thing. Sitting beside her, he could actually hear her sigh a sigh of relief when the credits rolled and Greg ran out of opportunities to provoke her.

On Nick's other side on the couch, Catherine picks a half-asleep Lindsey to her feet and strokes back her hair.

"Time for bed, I think, Linds," Catherine tells her gently.

"You can crash in the spare room," Nick offers, pointing down the hall. "Second door on the left." Catherine smiles and nods.

"Say goodnight then, Linds." Catherine prompts and leads the little girl off to Nick's spare room after she mumbles a sleepy goodnight, trailing away backed by goodnight calls from the rest of the room.

"So what else have you got for us, Sara?" Nick turns to her with a slight grin spreading across his face as he begins to get back into his usual self. Sara groans and buries her face in the sofa cushions.

"You don't even want to know." she answers as the doorbell buzzes again. Nick peels himself off the couch, stumbling off to get the door for the third time that night and greets Grissom with a smile when he finds up on the doorstep.

"Hey Griss," Nick slaps the guy on the back and immediately puts a beer in his hand. "Come in – we were wondering if you'd turn up." Grissom isn't surprised to see the three other CSIs lounging on Nick's various chairs and couches just as they aren't surprised to see him; it had almost become a sort of unspoken joke, their own individually creative and highly constructed reasons for ending up at Nick's – all of which didn't involve his need for them to be there.

"The lecture slides," Grissom indicates, shrugging his shoulder on which the slide projector hangs.

"The what?" Warrick looks up, confused.

"Aha – the fruit fly larvae lecture," Nick jumps in explaining and grins at the three of them. "Man, you guys are in for a treat – I'll just go grab Cath, she's putting Lindsey to bed."

"Fruit fly larvae, huh?" Greg comments. "Well that's my favourite type of larvae."

Sara snickers quietly on the couch and Grissom just shakes his head. He'd braced himself for some of their gentle mocking ever since he'd spotted the two extra cars parked out front. It was expected and, he reasoned, probably entirely justified.

"Hey Cath – Grissom's turned up with some slides," Nick pokes his head around the bedroom door as Catherine shuts off the lights and slips out.

"Oh really?" she peers over Nick's shoulder before turning back to him and asking in a knowing whisper, "Fruit fly larvae?"

Nick nods. "Yeah – how did you know?"

"Jesus, I don't know how many times I've heard the fruit fly larvae lecture but I swear I could recite it for you right here and now," answers Catherine, rolling her eyes.

Nick chuckles and heads back to the living room with Catherine close behind.

"And hey," she adds quietly. "Don't tell him about the fuming, will ya? You know what he's like." Nick grins – it was sweet of her to keep up the pretence when they all knew exactly why they'd turned up tonight.

"Sure thing, Cath." he promises as they all settle down to joke their way through Grissom's slides which he keeps on rolling, good-humouredly despite their persistent teasing.

"You may laugh now," Grissom warns them, mid-way. "But if someone happens to set this topic as an evaluation test, you won't be laughing then."

"What is there to know?" Greg returns. "The larvae got into a load of peppers and some Texans got sick."

"As well as people in at least six additional states," Catherine adds automatically before cringing at herself. "This is your fault." she accuses Grissom with a pointed finger.

"Shall I apologise for educating you?" he asks her calmly.

"Hey guys," Sara cuts in softly. "You wanna keep it down a little?" She gestures at Nick who, stretched out across the couch, has long-since fallen into a peaceful sleep. With a slight smile, Grissom shuts off the projector as the others quietly clear away pizza boxes and beer bottles to uncover sleeping space in the living room for Greg, Sara and Warrick.

"You really think that lecture can literally send people to sleep?" Grissom asks dubiously as he takes the mattress on the floor in the guest room while Catherine climbs under the covers of the guest bed.

"Well let's see," she says and clears her throat importantly. "In 8 May 2003. Fruit fly-infested hot peppers were found at two retail locations in Pinellas County..." She cuts herself off when she feigns a collapse into deep sleep on the pillow. She laughs slightly when she raises her head to see him looking at her in all seriousness.

"I'm kidding! It's a good lecture, Gil," Catherine assures him. "We're just messing with ya."

"Hm." Grissom sounds out doubtfully, shifting comfortably on the mattress.

Whether it was the lecture or not, either way, within the next fifteen minutes, everyone in Nick Stokes' house, from Nick himself to every uninvited guest that had turned up during the evening had fallen fast asleep and, for the first time in five long and painful nights, Nick Stokes slept all the way through the night.

- o -


End file.
